From Robert L. Millet and his book “Talking with God”:
For years my immediate family was not much involved in the Church. My Dad was a very moral and upright man, a person whose goodness and integrity were far and wide, a fun father and one whom I loved and respected deeply. For some reason, however, we simply were not involved in spiritual things. And it was Uncle Joseph and Aunt Gladys who nudged, poked, prodded, invited, enticed, and led us back into Church activity and into a stronger relationship with God. My uncle baptized both my mother and me, and he became a family hero of sorts.
As the decades rolled by, we stayed in touch, met together for several hours whenever my wife, Shauna, and I visited Louisiana, renewed treasured associations, reminisced, and spoke often of sacred things. Uncle Joseph worked for Standard Oil Company (later Exxon), mowed his lawn, serviced his own cars, and remained healthy and robust until shortly before he left us.
Just two weeks before he died, my cousin Linda (his daughter) and I walked into his hospital room. She had been by his side day and night for some time, but I hadn’t seen him in six months. I wasn’t prepared for the scene: wires and tubes in his nose and mouth and an IV in his right arm. I found myself weak in the knees and a little wobbly. My beloved hero was staring death in the face. I gave him a priesthood blessing to the effect that the Almighty would grant peace and comfort to him and his family.
And so when the phone call did come, I was not surprised but I was struck by the harsh reality of the occasion, the seeming finality of it all, and the poignant realization that our sweet brotherhood had been interrupted for a season by this mysterious event called death. After I hung up the phone, I immediately fell on my knees next to he hotel bed (I was attending a conference in Chicago at the time) and poured out my soul to the one Being who could understand perfectly just what I felt. I prayed. I thanked God for my uncle’s significant contribution to this world, for his trust and devotion to Deity, for his example of Christlike living. I told my Heavenly Father that I would miss my dear friend greatly and that I looked forward to the time when our family gatherings would be resumed in a day when we no longer saw through a glass darkly and no longer knew only in part. (1 Corinthians 13:12). We enter this life as helpless infants, and likewise we leave it helplessly in the face of death. I ached inside. I longed to turn back the pages of time. I wanted more than anything to be at his side at the moment of his passing. I was helpless, naked in my lack of control over the situation and so I did the only thing I knew how to do—I prayed.
I believe in God. I rejoice in the privilege it is to talk of Christ, to converse reverently on his name and nature, to speak boldly of his mission and ministry, to declare with conviction his immortality and infinity. In short, there are few things I delight more in doing than speaking of the Most High. There is, however, one thing I do enjoy more, and that is speaking to him. We call that communication prayer. Regular and consistent and sincere and dedicated prayer is a sacred activity, one that transforms us into persons of purpose and power, wholly surrendered to the mind and will of God and holy in our separation and from the distractions of this world. President Thomas S. Monson taught: “Men and women of integrity, character, and purpose have ever recognized a power higher than themselves and have sought through prayer to be guided by such power. Such has it ever been. So shall it ever be.”1 ~~Robert L. Millet, Talking with God (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 2010) p. 2-4
